


Loving You isn't the Right Thing to do

by vanillou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Fluff, Jealous Louis, Larry Stylinson Is Real, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, M/M, Music, Pining, Pining Louis, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:36:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillou/pseuds/vanillou
Summary: Louis' sister hasn't always had the best choice in men. So, when Harry comes along, Louis suspects just as much.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Loving You isn't the Right Thing to do

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I had a lot of fun writing this! It started as a fun idea of having Louis be in love with his sister's boyfriend, but then turned into a bit more. I got really into the music part of this, and I'm not sorry about it!
> 
> Anyways, I highly recommend listening to "Northern Lights" by Eriks Esenvalds! It's what inspired the music part of this, just because I think it's one of the most beautiful choral pieces ever written. If you're feelin real quirky, give his other song: "Stars" a listen to as well. 
> 
> So yeah! Thank you for reading! I'll probably come back through to edit in a bit but I got too excited to post so. Here we are. (:

“Lou!” Eliza called out from downstairs for about the eighteenth time. “It’s noon, get your ass up!” 

His face scrunched up, eyes flitting open at the glint of sunlight streaming into the room. Turning over, he fished for his phone through the clutter on his bedside table. A beer can fell to the floor when he tugged on the charging cord. “Shit.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back down onto the pillow. It was, indeed, noon o’clock. His body ached with fatigue, not wanting to leave the safety and warmth of his dirty sheets. 

He begrudgingly threw on one of his old football tees and stomped down the stairs to the kitchen. Eliza was sitting at the table, a mug of tea cradled between her two hands. She pursed her lips against the mug, eyes darting up once Louis’ toes tapped on the linoleum.

“Morning gorgeous,” she hummed. “Don’t you look rough.”

Louis scrunched his face mockingly in response. He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and slumped himself into it. 

Eliza pushed a mug towards him. Almost instantly, his entire demeanor changed. He took a rather large gulp of the hot tea, shivered from the burn going down his throat, then looked up at his sister with glaring eyes.

“Couldn’t have told me it was hot?” He scolded.

“Your fingers should have told you that,” she snarled in response.

Their mother peeked her head around the cabinets so that she could shoot an irate ‘mom glare’ towards them. “Don’t start, you two.” 

Louis leaned his body off of the chair so that he could see better into the kitchen where his mum was busy whisking eggs in a glass bowl. He thought for a moment, considering the fact that family breakfast wasn’t really a thing in their house. They were more of a ‘eat if you have the time’ kind of family, so anything other than granola bars or cereal meant serious business. 

His eyes widened as he came to the realization. “Shit, that’s today?” 

Eliza muttered a patronizing chuckle. “You really forgot? It’s been the main topic of conversation for, quite literally, months.” She crossed her legs, sipping from her mug with a dramatic frown. “I’m offended to be honest.”

“Shit,” Louis cursed.

“Language!” His mum hollered from behind the stove.

The two siblings rolled their eyes at the statement.

Louis put his hands on the table. “When does it start?”

Eliza got up to put her mug in the sink. “One. So you’ve got, like, thirty minutes.”

“Fuck,” Louis cursed again, which startled another yelp from his mother. “Alright, alright!” He waved his hands frustratedly before sprinting back up to his bedroom to throw on something proper.

He shuffled back downstairs ten minutes later wearing a loose grey v-neck, tight fitting jeans, and brightly colored Power Rangers socks. His hands made an attempt to rub out the wrinkles in his shirt, but to no avail.

When he’d reached the living room, there were already about three random people making small talk with one another. His mum was setting out trays of food that the strangers quickly began to graze on, desperate to fill the time until more people arrived. His eyes quickly focused onto Eliza with her arms wrapped around one a stranger’s waist.

Big brother mode immediately switched on. He waltzed over, posture in check. With a quick look up and down of the man, Louis had already made his decision about him: he did not like him. Maybe it was the fact that the man’s hands (which were abnormally large) had too tight of a grip on his sister’s hips. Or, maybe it was the way he was leaning in with obvious intention of kissing her.

“Woah, woah there big fella!” Louis interrupted with his palms outstretched towards them, catching their attention before colliding into a sloppy teenage exchange of saliva. He dramatically put his hands onto his hips. “And what do we have here?”

Eliza rolled her eyes when the boy nervously adjusted his stance, offering a hand to Louis.

“Louis,” she started, “This is my boyfriend.”

“Hi,” the stranger cooed, his voice sounding much too low for a high school student. “I’m Harry.”

Rejecting the handshake, Louis’ eyes darted back to Eliza with a knowing glare. “Louis,” he deadpanned.

Harry nervously brought his awkwardly extended hand back to his neck, rubbing it so that it made sense to move his hand at all. 

Eliza wrapped her arms tighter onto Harry’s waist, cuddling her head onto his chest. “Big brother,” she explains, pecking a kiss to his Fleetwood Mac tee.

“Yeah,” Louis turned his focus back onto Harry, making sure his eyes told the boy to lay off. “Big brother.” He smiled, squinting his eyes at him.

“Okay, well,” Eliza uncoiled herself from Harry. “Big 

brother, so no need to get all… Like that. Chill out, Louis.”

Before Louis could argue, their mother was standing behind them, wrapping an arm around Louis.

“Harry!” She announced excitedly, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. “So glad you came.”

Louis watched angrily as Harry pecked her back, smile wide and taunting Louis. “Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Harry spoke sweetly, voice low and syrupy as it drizzled onto her cheek as if it were a pancake.

“Louis!” she started, “This is-”

“Yeah,” Louis scoffed, “Eliza’s boyfriend.” He met eyes with Harry, both of them trying to win this staring contest. By the looks of it, Harry wasn’t too keen on Louis either. It didn’t sting Louis, no. It burned with a fiery rage with each second this boy looked at him, eyes screaming disrespect. 

“Mum,” Eliza whined, “Louis’ being mean to Harry.”

Louis shook his head in offense, flinging his hands up in response.

“Oh, Louis.” His mum coddled, “He’s a nice boy. And quite handsome, too.” She giggled, reaching a hand out to gently tap Harry’s cheek.

Harry leaned into it, smile digging divots into his cheeks. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Tomlinson.”

“That’s Ms. Tomlinson,” she flirted back.

Both Louis and Eliza gagged at the gross display of affection.

“Alright, alright,” Eliza put a hand out, pushing her away. “Mum, where’s the tea?”

Panicked, their mum didn’t even make to answer. She hurried away to the kitchen, leaving Louis and Harry another moment to cast degrading scowls at each other.

“I don’t like this,” is all Louis said before turning away to socialize with others. 

He didn’t make any effort to bump into Harry for the rest of the party. He purposefully spoke to the unbelievably boring geriatric people, making sure to cast a repulsed stare Harry’s way every time the lad was in his line of vision. 

It was hard to hold back a snarky comment when Eliza blew out the candles on her graduation cake with the help of Harry. Louis bit his tongue, trying to rationalize the situation before making a purposeful decision to ruin it. Instead, he watched Harry’s arm grope onto his sister’s side as they both leaned in and blew hot air onto the candles.

As people filtered out, Eliza and Harry had sat themselves onto the sofa. Louis was absolutely repulsed watching them as Harry tapped her nose, whispering sweet nothings into her ear every few seconds. She’d giggle, causing Louis to bite his lip from irritation.

Eliza hadn’t always had the best choice in men; in fact, her last boyfriend ended up going to jail for attempted armed robbery. Louis never ever approved, always sat back and tried to hint at how disgusting these people were, hoping she’d get the hint eventually. 

She never did.

So, Louis assumed that Harry was nothing different: a pretty face on a terrible, terrible human. 

“So,” Harry cut off Louis’ murderous thoughts, “Step siblings? How did 

happen?”

Eliza threw her head back in a laugh. Louis shivered. 

“How? How do you 

step siblings happen?” Louis scoffed.

Harry shrugged. Eliza just glared deep into Louis’ eyes. 

“I was five,” she started, “Louis was seven. Our parents met at a convention for ‘widows and widowers’. Sparks flew, I guess.”

Louis glanced from Eliza to Harry, who was staring deeply at him. Once their eyes met, Harry immediately averted his gaze down to his lap. A feeling of victory thrashed into Louis, as if he’d finally managed to intimidate Harry. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Harry said lowly.

Louis tilted his head. “What?”

Lifting his head up, Harry’s eyes connected with Louis’ again. His brow was furrowed in concern as he spoke pointedly at Louis. “Your loss.”

“Oh,” Louis adjusts his posture, “Thanks.” 

His victorious glow suddenly vanished. Caught off guard by Harry’s innocent gesture, Louis was the one to avert his eyes. When he looked up, though, Harry was the one smirking as if he’d won the competition.

Eliza ran her fingers through Harry’s hair. “That’s very caring of you, love. Thank you. It was hard, even though I was young, but. I’ve a good father, he was very supportive. Right Louis?”

Louis drew in a sigh. “He’s great, yeah.”

He could feel Harry staring again. The weight of his eyes burned into the side of Louis’ face.

“You’re lucky to have a mum like Mary, too. She’s absolutely wonderful.” Harry said softly. 

Louis couldn’t quite get a read on his intentions. There was honest generosity in Harry’s tone, but his eyes seemed so deceivingly driven to get a rise out of Louis. 

When Louis looked back, Harry had refocused on Eliza. He was brushing hair out of her face as she smiled into his face, humming sweet noises every time his fingers graced through her brown strands. 

And Louis is just about done. 

He stands up from his chair and makes a beeline for his room, feeling utterly confused and disrespected. Which, as he thinks about it, Harry was quite disrespectful. Their public displays of affection were obviously pointed towards him, obviously stirred up to annoy Louis. The longer he processed it the hotter it burned.

**

“I’m not saying you’ve got to accept him as a step brother,” Eliza argued, “Just try to… like… not be a proper dick around him.”

Louis’ thumbs scratched the screen of his phone as he typed out an email. “Not gonna happen.”

“Loubear,” Mary plopped one of the aluminum trays from earlier onto the table, “He’s a good boy.” Both Louis and Eliza picked up their forks and started digging at the lukewarm casserole in front of them. Mary slapped their hands, gesturing to the plates in front of them. “You’re human beings! Eat like them!”

“Right.” Louis grabbed a spoonful and plopped it onto his plate, giving his mother a forced smile. “He rubs me the wrong way. ‘Til he proves otherwise, I’m gonna treat him like the cock he is.”

“Language!”

“He’s not a cock, Louis. He’s actually kind!” Eliza raised her voice, heatedly plopping her own serving onto the porcelain. 

“Oh,” Louis said through a mouthful, “Like Jared? Or Tom? Oh!” He swallowed, fisting his silverware in theatrical excitement, “How about Lucas?”

She threw her fork down. “Mum!”

“Hey,” Mary scolded, eyes boring into Louis, “That’s enough.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You’re okay with all of this?”

“Right, Eliza hasn’t had the wisest choices of men (Eliza tries to argue, but Mary keeps on), but Harry is an exception. I quite like him.” She quietly and carefully bites into her own serving. 

The table goes quiet for a moment. The scratching of silverware on porcelain is the only sound for a brief few minutes before Mary asks:

“Will Harry be joining us for church tomorrow?”

Louis’ face immediately shoots up to her, finding that she’s completely nonchalant. His face ripples with disgust.

“You mean joining you for church tomorrow? No, I don’t think he will be.” Eliza says, focused on stuffing her face. 

“I’ll bet you he goes with me, he’s kind enough. When will he be here?”

Again, Louis feels his neck crack looking at his mum. “He’s coming here again?”

“Yeah,” Eliza winks at Louis. “He’s staying the night.”

The casserole bubbles in his stomach at that. Suddenly, his anger has transfixed itself into nausea as he shoots up from his chair and heads for the bathroom. 

He can’t take it, really. Eliza holds a special place in his heart, and the fact that he couldn’t protect her from heartbreak before makes that special place feel forbidden. He knows that there is a possibility that Harry is kind, a possibility that Harry is actually quite a wonderful person that donates to charity and would give his kidney to Louis if need be, but god damn Louis can not bring himself to believe a single one of those things. 

With his palms on the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are red as if he hasn’t taken a decent breath in a few minutes. Yeah, he’s probably overreacting, but he’d take an overreaction over an underreaction any day. 

**

It’s about one in the morning when Louis finally leaves his phone on the charger and shifts his position on his bed. There’s far too much going on in his life for it all to be done tonight, so he gives up on even trying. 

His heart is racing as he lies uncomfortably in the tiny bed. The phone on his nightstand flashes every few minutes, threatening his eyes to pop over and peek at the glowing screen, but he finds the strength to shut them and avoid checking it.

Curling his toes underneath the sheets, he fidgets relentlessly in hopes of finding peace of mind in a comfortable position. However, he grew out of this bed around age seven, so it’s a rather unattainable goal at the moment. The familiarity of his childhood bedroom is nice, but 

does he miss his bed back at school right now. 

But even picturing his wide queen mattress in Boston doesn’t do the trick; because that reminds him of school. Of the upcoming quarter. Of the anxiety that springs forth due to a certain application that he’s expecting results for any day now. 

Because either he’s been accepted into the Berklee College of Music’s special internship program he’s been hoping for, or he’s been rejected. He’s not quite sure if he can handle either right now, as his head is already reeling from dealing with ‘he who shall not be named’ all night.

Harry has proven himself to be the worst. He’d properly cursed Louis’ favorite footie team, beaten him at Mario Kart, and berated Louis for enjoying the movie: “The Notebook”. And if that weren’t embarrassing enough, Harry’d gone out of his way to keep quoting the movie all night as a means to poke fun at him. 

As Louis turns for what must be the eightieth time in his bed, he can’t help but hear mumblings from the room beside his. 

So, Harry was definitely not sleeping on the couch, where he should be. Harry is definitely in Eliza’s room, creating sounds that can only be described as demonically sensual. And Louis does not want to hear that, so he covers the open side of his face with his pillow.

The pillows are not magically noise cancelling, however. 

And the walls are paper thin.

Before he can even think, he’s shooting out of bed and knocking on the door. He opens his mouth to harshly scold them and hopefully embarrass them out of each other, when the door opens.

“Can I help you?” A stark naked Harry asks.

Louis fumes. “I can punch you, mate. I can and will punch you.”

Harry smirks at that, he fucking smirks, opening the door a little more so that his solid hard cock is staring right at Louis.

Clenching his fists, Louis tilts his head. “This? This is not cool, not at all. You’re not making yourself look good, here.”

“I think I look pretty good, actually.”

And just before Louis can raise his fist, Eliza is poking her head out of the door. 

“He’s going, Louis. He’s going. Go.” She pushes Harry with a bundle of his clothes in her fist. He goes along with it, making sure to bump Louis harshly with his front as he walks passed him.

As he walks down the hall, he peers behind him at Louis, smirk wide and condescending before tiptoeing down the steps.

“I’m sorry,” Eliza pleads, keeping the door shut enough to hide her body. “Louis I’m genuinely sorry, that was not okay and I-”

“Just-” Louis sighs. “Go to bed.”

She lowers her face and closes the door.

Louis rubs in between his eyes with his fingers, trudging back to his room. Before he enters the doorway, he catches a glimpse of Harry standing across the hall. 

With his clothes clutched in one hand, Harry stands propped up against the wall as he stares at Louis. He winks at him before actually going down the stairs.

And Louis has officially decided that Harry is just like the others. Maybe even worse.

**

Louis plays with his cheerios with a spoon, eyes fixed on the TV. He’s still steaming over his encounter with Harry and Eliza, still trying to figure out how to deal with the situation because it 

happen again. 

On one hand, he wants to be the cool older brother that lets things slide. He wants to give Eliza the chance to live, the chance to make mistakes and learn from them. He’s also never really minded Eliza being sexually active before, but maybe that’s because he hasn’t had to endure listening to it before.

Whenever the commercials come on, his mind retorts to the sounds of Harry in the room next door. The moans, the whispers, the incredibly 

sound of something Louis doesn’t have the strength to think about. In the end, it’s Eliza. Eliza, who will always be his younger sister that does things Louis doesn’t approve of.

On the other hand, however, Harry doesn’t deserve to get off scot free. Harry should have known better, should have more respect for Louis and his mum than to audibly fuck Eliza in their own home like that. 

It’s just as Louis begins to picture the smug Harry from last night, standing across the hall with a raging hard on, that the front door opens.

“That was so, so wonderful, Harry. Thank you.” Marry beams, setting her purse down on the table. 

When Harry walks in behind her, he stares straight at Louis. His mouth is raised upwards, a smirk threatening Louis as he sits down beside him. 

“What a great service,” he says to Mary while peering into Louis’ glare.

Mary continues the conversation from the kitchen. “So you’ll be joining us then, Harry?”

He’s still staring at Louis, who has just swallowed about five cheerios without chewing them. “Without a doubt.”

“Umm,” Louis chokes, “Joining us for what?”

Mary pokes her head around the doorway. “The lakehouse!” She cheers.

Louis’ stomach flops. There’s a feeling similar to acid reflux rising up his esophagus. It burns, burns so hot and wild that he feels like his nose is about to shoot flames. 

Harry just keeps his smirk, getting back up and heading up the stairs with a skip in his step. 

Once he leaves the room, Louis bolts for the kitchen. He slams his palms down onto the counter and forces himself into his mum’s vision.

“He cannot come to the lakehouse.”

“Louis-”

“No,” Louis gulps. “He has proven to me that he is not good enough for Eliza, I refuse to let him come with us.”

She tilts her head in confusion. “Just because he’s dating your sister does not mean he’s a bad-”

“I heard them last night, mum.” Louis squints his eyes shut. When he opens them, he sees her with her mouth hung open in shock.

“You heard them?” She says with a tinge of disgust on her tongue. Louis nods. “They did that beside you in your room? That’s-” She plants her palms down, strengthening her stance. “Well that is quite rude.”

For a moment, Louis feels a rush of relief. She calls Eliza’s name, her voice sounding angered and parental. Yet another feeling of victory surges through Louis’ body. This might just be the end once and for all, and that sends a sigh of relief off his tongue.

When they get into the kitchen, they both send pointed glares at Louis, who is smiling to the side. 

“That was rude and immature of you two, and I will not tolerate such behavior in my house!” Mary scolds, leaving the two in sulking positions on the other side of the counter. They radiate embarrassment as she berates them, looking utterly ashamed with their hands behind their backs. “So, I’ll have to treat you two like children if you cannot act like proper adults...”

And yes, 

this is what Louis wanted.

“...Harry, you’ll be sleeping in Louis’ room at the lakehouse.”

Every single one of them shoots a look up at her. Then they all look at Louis, then they look back at her. 

All at once, the three of them interject with absolute distaste. 

“No.”

“Not happening.”

“Gross.”

But Mary cuts them all off, hand in the air to stop them before they can take a breath. 

“Perhaps you’ll all learn a thing or two,” she declares before stepping away from the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence amongst them.

Eliza finally breaks the tension, whispering: “asshole.” before leaving the kitchen as well.

Harry looks over at Louis. His face drips with both anger and fear. 

Louis looks back at him, face reading about the same. 

Neither of them say anything. After a few seconds, Harry exits the room. 

This was NOT what Louis wanted to happen.

**

After a three hour drive, the car drives up to a remote cabin surrounded by evergreens and pine trees. There’s a little mailbox at the start of the drive with all of their names painted in baby blue cursive. It’s a bit rustier than it was originally, but the nostalgia of it all still brings a smile to Louis’ face.

It’s just how he’d always remembered it: dark green siding with a white picket fence and a stone walkway that leads to the backyard, where there’s a quaint beach area leading to the lake. The house is definitely smaller than it was when he was younger. It used to be a mansion to his kid self, but now it is simply an average three bedroom lakehouse. 

They grab everything from the car and bring it into the entry, neglecting to unpack anything as they walk deeper into the living room.

Harry settles into a loveseat next to the fireplace, where Eliza sits in between his legs, pulling off his socks and playfully throwing them into his face.

“Hey,” Harry says softly, throwing a socks back at her. 

Louis rolls his eyes as he deflates onto the sofa.

“If you could not be this revolting throughout out stay,” He crinkles his nose and squints his eyes at them, “That would be lovely.”

As expected, they cast piercing glares his way before continuing to be: that revolting.

They use whatever energy they have left in them to dip into the lake, exploring the warm water lazily in inner tubes. They eat dinner, watch TV, and fight the urge to fall asleep right there in the living room before giving up and heading for their respective sleeping spots.

“Louis’ gonna keep an eye on you two,” Mary declares before disappearing into the master bedroom. 

They give each other an exchange of looks before Eliza kisses Harry and departs for her own bedroom, leaving Harry and Louis standing awkwardly in the hallway.

“Well I guess we should…”

“Yeah.” Louis finishes.

The room isn’t small, but sharing any space with Harry is enough to send Louis into a claustrophobic annoyance. They awkwardly fiddle through their belongings and slap on pajamas, both of them trying not to be the first one into the queen sized bed.

“Look,” Harry looks everywhere but at Louis. “I don’t want this, you don’t want this, let’s just… I’ll go sleep somewhere else and we just say we slept here, alright?”

But it’s in the way that Harry says “somewhere else” that makes Louis’ insides burn again. He angrily flips the duvet off the bed, settling in all while maintaining piercing eye contact with Harry. “I would hate to miss out on that wonderful bedside manner you were giving my sister the other night.” He flips the other side of the duvet, leaving an empty space for Harry. “Like I’ll believe that load of bullshit. Get in.”

And so Harry reluctantly climbs into the bed, switching the lamp off on the way. They lay in silence without so much as breathing. Their bodies are clearly angled away from each other, avoiding any awkward encounter by all means. 

It’s about three in the morning when Louis’ eyes shoot open. The uncanny feeling of nothing beside him causing him to jut out of bed and stomp out of the room. 

Just as he expected, there are hushed noises coming from across the hall. He darts towards Eliza’s door before the noises stop. He can hear whispers and shooshes coming from the other side.

“Get. Out.” Louis whispers angrily into the wooden door, waits a few seconds, and then pounds on it with his fist. “I’ll cause a scene, I’ll do it.”

As soon as it opens, he grabs a fistfull of Harry’s hair and yanks him back into their bedroom, throwing him with a ferocious hand. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Harry hisses, a hand reaching up to smooth out his hair. 

“The fuck do I think I am?” Louis snarls. “You’re a fucking twat, you know that? What kind of asshole does shit like this? Are you trying to make me angry? Are you trying to upset my mum? Are you? I mean what-” he gestures to Harry’s naked body with outstretched fingers, “What is this? Who is this for?”

Harry looks down at himself. He purposefully flexes his dick, letting it slap his thigh.

“I swear to god,” Louis rounds up towards him, his body raging with adrenaline.

“Okay! Okay.” Harry puts out his palms, holding Louis back by his chest. “I’ll get into bed. I’ll sleep. I’ll sleep.”

It’s just as Louis’ about to climb back into bed that Harry stops him, a hand grabbing onto his arm. 

“Are you hard right now?” Harry says, a fucking smirk widening onto his cheeks.

Louis yanks his arm away, hastily covering himself into the duvet and turning away from Harry. He shamefully palms at himself, pushing his solid dick down and wincing at the rush of ecstasy he feels at the pressure. 

The bed shifts under him. He feels warm air blow over his face and when he turns to look, Harry is hovering above him. 

“You’re totally hard right now.” Harry teases.

Louis throws an arm back at Harry, who hisses at the contact and settles into bed finally. 

**

Louis decides to let this one slide.

As they eat a breakfast of eggs on toast, Louis avoids eye contact with Harry at all costs. Whatever eye contact they do make results in Harry smirking, Louis sneering. 

The bubbles of vehement rage in Louis’ belly. It’s as if Harry Styles himself is inside of him, popping them one by one, releasing a toxic slew of furiated acid into the rest of Louis’ body. With every kiss Harry gives Eliza, Harry’s eyes bore into Louis as if they’re screaming at him. And Louis doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something new about this rage caused by Harry.

It’s not like the other boys, no. It’s like Harry was supposed to be different, supposed to be the knight in shining armor. And yes, Harry is wearing the armor, but only Louis seems to see the devil inside of the suit.

The rest of the day is filled with relaxing by the water, filling up on sweets as well as cold pints of beer that seem to never end. The sun sets an orange glow onto the water, sparkling bits of red intermixed with glints of green. Everything feels warm, the alcohol turning everything into a blissful mirage of a holiday. 

Even Louis is not immune to the effects of alcohol. He feels somewhat unaffected by Harry’s attempts to piss him off, blowing the retorts off and laughing at them instead of sending a stinging comment back in reply. 

He doesn’t even make any comments when Harry brings out his guitar and fucks up the chords to “Go Your Own Way”.

Instead, he snatches the guitar and shows Harry the chords.

Harry nods and watches, biting his lip as he watches Louis’ fingers press down. 

And Louis watches Harry watch him with innocent eyes. For once, he sees something new in them. When he’s not glaring at Louis, they’re actually quite pretty. 

So Louis strums the song, starting to sing it, when he forgets the lyrics.

“...Isn’t the right thing to do,” Harry continues the lyric. 

He stares at the guitar in Louis’ hands, tapping his finger on his glass while biting his lip. He continues singing, eyebrows focused on Louis’ fingers. At one point he closes his eyes as if to feel the music. Louis doesn’t bite at that, just tilts his head and admires him for a moment. It’s not long before he’s singing, too. 

Mary and Eliza watch them with glowing eyes. They sip on their beers and share knowing glances with one and other. Because it’s cute, really.

As Louis goes into the chorus, his eyes widen when Harry starts harmonizing. It’s instant. Their voices click together and vibrate as one, glorious sound that is so sweet and so smooth that it goes with the natural waves in the water. 

When Harry opens his eyes again, its to a bright smile on Louis’ lips. They sing into each other’s eyes, dramatically moving their heads along with the rhythm. 

There’s not a single thought going through Louis’ brain. Not one. He’s too busy enjoying this wonderful moment that him and Harry have created. 

But the song ends eventually, and they both sigh simultaneously. They also both “jinks” each other at the same time, falling into easy laughter. 

It’s as they’re going to bed that night that Louis finds himself staring at Harry across from him on the bed. They’re facing each other, both wrapped up in the duvet, talking at each other like two preteens at a slumber party.

“I never knew my dad,” Harry sighs, fingers toying with the pillowcase under his head, “So I never really got sad about that. Kinda sucked, though.”

Louis frowns. “I bet that was hard for you,” he hiccups, “Living without a dad.”

“Yeah,” Harry looks into Louis’ eyes. He waits a beat, takes in a steadying breath before: “You too.”

Louis nods, knowingly. “Yeah. We knew it was coming, though. So, it’s alright, really.”

The side of Harry’s mouth quirks in concern. “Still, I can’t imagine.”

They both look down at their fingers, which are both playing with some sort of cloth scarily close to the other’s fingers. It’s nothing, really, but in their inebriated state, the warmth spreads across the distance, and it’s comforting. They grace fingers slightly, but then tear them away. The electricity between their digits stings them both, but neither react. Neither one acknowledges it. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, softly.

Louis’ eyes widen. He meets Harry’s gaze and suddenly feels very sober, very aware of how intimate the situation is. He tears his gaze away and flops onto his back. “M’fine, just wish you wouldn’t shag my sister so outwardly.” 

But Harry scoots closer.

“I don’t mean to.” Harry whispers. He lets a finger poke at Louis’ arm, a bit childish and innocently running it up and down the skin. He smiles at the goosebumps. “Hey, goosebumps.”

Louis peers down at the contact. His cheeks blush from endearment and way, way too many beers. “Why are they called that?” He giggles.

Harry giggles back. “‘Cuz one day a goose ran into another goose, and it made their feathers fall off, and their naked skin was like… bumpy.”

Louis turns back on his side quickly, face to face with Harry. “That was horrendous.”

Harry stares at him with wide, innocent eyes. His pupils are so large that the green in his eyes is invisible. He blinks slowly, eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he lifts the fingers up to Louis’ face.

“Pink.” He prods Louis’ fleshy cheeks.

“Stop it,” Louis laughs, but he doesn’t fight it when Harry pokes them again.

It’s so, so warm. Harry is so close and he’s so warm, body radiating heat from its sunburned flesh. 

Harry lowers his finger, eyes still digging into Louis’. He closes them and slowly leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to Louis’ lips before pulling away and laying on his back.

“M’sorry.” Harry smiles. He chuckles to himself. “Don’t know why I did that.”

Louis stays frozen, lips pursed. He realizes his position and shuffles onto his own back, his lips settling back into place. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

But Harry’s turning over towards Louis again, and when Louis feels the weight on the bed shift, he moves too. Their faces bump into each other with less grace this time, their lips interlocking with a wet hot press of flesh. They pull away for a second, but meet again in no time. 

Louis’ the one to pull away this time. He sleepily tosses onto his other side. “Sleep,” he mumbles.

Harry doesn’t argue, nor does he move any farther from Louis. Instead, he inches a little closer. He presses his forehead to Louis’ back. The curls send a shiver down Louis’ skin, and when Harry notices the goosebumps on the flesh, his lip quirks into an intoxicated smile before sleep gets the best of him. 

**

Louis expects an uproar in the kitchen when he emerges from his bed. Instead, he walks into a pleasant conversation between Harry and his mum about Amoebas.

He doesn’t understand a word, just shakes his head as he settles into a seat at the table.

Harry send a devilish stare Louis’ way as he sips from a ‘world’s best cousin’ mug. There’s a little wink at the end, which reminds Louis of what a horrid, horrid mistake he’d made last night.

A little part of him was begging for there to be a scene, praying for some sort of explosion between Harry and his mother at the knowledge that Louis and him had snogged passionately in their bed. Sure, it would be a disaster, but Harry would probably leave this family for good. 

Eliza walked in from the back yard wearing a purple two piece, water droplets slipping from her silky brown hair and onto the floor. She wraps her arms around Harry’s shoulder, pressing eager kisses to his cheeks.

“Come for a swim, love!” She bites at his ear.

Harry playfully slaps her hands away. “You’re getting me wet!”

He says it as if it’s an inside joke between them- and Louis really does NOT want to know the backstory of it. 

Eliza presses a last kiss to Harry’s earlobe. She stands up straight, sticking her hand in Harry’s curls. “Are you ready mum?”

“Just about,” Mary says, slinging a bag over her shoulder. 

“Ready for what?” Louis pours milk into his bowl, not looking up.

“Groceries,” Eliza sighs as she slips a shirt on over her wet bathing suit. “Girls only, gonna make you two idiots bond, or whatever.”

Louis opens his mouth to argue. Mary cuts him off.

“There’s apple crisp in the oven, take it out in thirty.” She leans over Louis and kisses the top of his hair, ruffling it with her fingers as she pulls away. “You could show him some more chords, love! Family bonding.”

“Yeah,” Harry scowls at Louis, his mouth doing that stupid quirk as he winks. “Family bonding.”

Accepting defeat, Louis decides to stay silent and avoid Harry once the girls leave. He makes to put his empty bowl into the sink without so much as glancing at Harry. As he scrubs at it with a sponge, he feels two arms wrap around his waist, a chin placing itself onto his shoulder.

“Mmm,” Harry moans into his neck, “You smell like sweat and salt.” He presses his tongue against the skin, getting a quick lick of his tongue in before Louis is heatedly shoving him away.

“Fuck-” Louis says, throwing a rag down into the sink, “You’re truly, truly evil, aren’t you?”

Harry inches towards him, fingers finding the waistband of Louis’ sweats. They curl under the elastic, pulling him closer, but Louis resists. Harry surrenders, palms in the air. “I was just poking fun, no need to get like… That.” He says it pointedly, his eyes sliding down to Louis’ groin. When he meets Louis’ eyeline again, he’s nibbling on his bottom lip purposefully. 

That bubble of rage has just about burst in Louis’ stomach. It’s like Harry’s played this game before. He knows what buttons to press and when to press them. His timing could not be better- or worse? Because like clockwork, Louis’ fists are clenched, and he’s struggling to hold himself back.

He wants to punch him. He so badly wants to slam his fist into the wall beside this boy’s head, scaring him into pissing himself before actually slamming his fingers into that pretty, pretty face.

Instead, Louis shoves him at his shoulders. Harry’s body thrashes back onto the stove, his hands gripping the metal handles on the oven for stability. He doesn’t make any motion to fight back, just widens his eyes as Louis inches closer. Once Louis’ face about an inch from his, he turns his head away.

Louis grips at Harry’s chin, pulling it so that they’re eye to eye. 

“You’re just like them,” Louis starts, his voice wavering on the edge of a whispered growl, “And I won’t sit back and wait for it to go bad this time.”

Harry blinks quickly.

Tightening his grip, Louis pouts his lips and spits on Harry’s face.

Harry defiantly spits back. He brings his hands up to Louis’ shoulders and shoves him back forcefully. In a few seconds, he has Louis pinned onto the counter, hands tightened around Louis’ on the tile. 

“Oh,” Harry leans, lightly brushing his lips against Louis’ ear as he whispers: 

Louis’ blood curdles. Or boils. Or fucking explodes through his skin and all over the hands pinning him down. He fights unceremoniously, thrusting his wrists back into Harry’s palms only to stay in place due to Harry’s unpredictable strength. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Louis hisses furiously. The words hit Harry right at the points of his mouth, pulling on them to form a demonic smirk. “What the

did you do?”

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but shakes his head. For a moment, Louis can see through the red in his eyes and take a peek at him. He sees the green eyes that haunt him with how irritating they can be, but he sees them sparkle in the sunlight, and it’s briefly breathtaking. It’s like Louis has silenced this heated moment, giving those eyes a moment to be appreciated. And he hates that he’s even let a moment slip by without cursing Harry, because Harry has released the hold and is walking out of the room.

“Relax,” Harry purrs, poking his head into the kitchen momentarily, “You should trust her more, you know.”

Confused is a mild way to put it. Louis stares at the empty space in front of him, body still resting hastily on the counter. He’s confused, angry, and so, so

And t

only amplifies the other emotions crawling under his skin. 

What the fuck did Harry do?

**

Warm water rushes down the length of Louis’ hair. Small bubbles of shampoo trickle down his back as he scrubs at his scalp with anxious fingers. If it were up to him, the water would be boiling hot- but 

used up all the hot water.

The words Harry said replay over and over again down Louis’ neck and into his spine. It makes the hair on his arms stand on end. Definitely an overreaction to everything, but still, he felt the need to past few days off of his skin. 

On top of everything, he couldn’t help but fixate on the fact that he’d probably notified about the internship by now. However, the lakehouse had zero phone service, so there wasn’t any point in looking at his phone anyway. That didn’t stop the gears in his head from spinning.

Because if he got in, that would be it. He’d be on track to finish his degree with a good chance in landing a proper position in teaching music for the rest of his life. The rays of hope that came along with the internship were the only ones left. School is expensive, and affording it without the financial assistance offered through the internship was nearly impossible. 

It was slightly disturbing that even with the rottenly negative thoughts passing through his brain, his cock was still throbbing against his leg. It had been a proper few days since he’d last wanked off, so he decided to take this opportunity to release some much needed steam.

He sent a hand down, fingers wrapping around himself. The up and down movements along with the pressure of his grip inspired tingles in his stomach in no time. His head bent backwards as he bit his lip, placing a hand upon the tile while to gain stability as he stroked himself. As the sensation festered deep in his gut, he felt the impending orgasm inch closer and closer to its peak. He let his mouth hang open a little bit as he quickened the pace of his hand.

The doorknob clicked. 

“Steamy in here,” Harry snickered, followed by the door closing behind him. His footsteps neared closer to the shower curtain, the edge of it ruffling as he gripped at it with intent to slide it open.

Louis used his free hand to tug on the curtain, avoiding an embarrassing reveal. “Don’t,” he hissed, his voice shaking and higher pitched than he had been hoping for. His hand maneuvered itself so that it was covering his dick. He palmed at himself, squeezing his eyes shut. It was a mistake, as the pressure from his palm was enough to push himself over the edge. He clutched tighter onto the shower curtain as he started spurting cum onto his legs. 

Little did he know, Harry had given up trying to pry open that side of the curtain and had moved to the other side. He hadn’t fully opened it, just opened it enough to poke his head in.

He was just trying to get a rise out of Louis. But there he was, watching in awe as Louis crumbled into an intense orgasm right in front of him. His eyes followed the drips of white that poured onto Louis’ sun kissed skin, watched from behind with wide eyes as Louis made little gasps that weren’t so quiet. 

Louis’ brain swirled, desperate to reinstate a proper state of mind as he came down. He blinked hard, heaving a sigh. 

“Well,” Harry whispered, his voice cracking, “That was dramatic.”

Louis’ head snapped over his shoulder. His eyes widened at Harry. “Leave,” He snarled.

“Yeah,” Harry cleared his throat before shutting the curtain. He made sure to whistle mockingly before shutting the door behind him. 

**

Harry and Louis avoid eye contact for the rest of the trip.

Louis doesn’t even try to keep Harry from leaving the bed at night- in fact, he encourages it. He turns a blind eye and lets Harry escape the awkwardness of sharing a bed. 

He didn’t expect it to be uncomfortable, no. He expected teasing and backhanded compliments and sly ways of sneaking the situation into conversation but- it’s awkward. Harry blushes when their hands touch, and Louis notices right away because his cheeks do the same. It’s odd because somehow, Harry is just as humiliated it seems, which is very out of character. 

They spend the last night at the lakehouse drinking, playing a few rounds of Scrabble, and swimming. When it gets dark, they all huddle around a fire on the deck, drinks in hand. 

Mary has an arm wrapped over Harry’s shoulder. She’s not wasted, but she’s feeling loose enough to spew out words of appreciation to Harry, who smiles with full dimples in response. It’s an adorable display of family, one that Louis finds himself grinning at. 

“You’re so brilliant, Harry.” Mary relishes into Harry’s curls, pressing motherly kisses to them. “You’re gonna do great things love, I just know it.”

Harry shakes his head at that.

Eliza plucks a few sorry excuses for chords on Louis’ guitar. Louis’ trying to place her fingers in the proper position, but she drunkenly pushes his attempts off and plays her own version of ‘Rhiannon’. It does not sound like ‘Rhiannon’. 

Louis’ ears perk up when he hears Harry mention Berklee College of Music.

“What?” He asks, cutting Harry mid sentence.

Harry looks towards Louis. Their eyes meet for the first time since he’d caught Louis’ fondling himself in the shower. “Er-” He blinks, “I’m still waiting.”

Louis blinks back. “No, what- Did you say something about Berklee?”

“Yeah, uhm,” Harry says slowly. He’s still looking at Louis, the fire the only thing separating the tension between them. “I’m still waiting to hear back on my audition.”

“You auditioned for Berklee?” 

“Yeah,” Harry answers. He looks down at his hands. “Vocal. Still waiting to hear if I got a second audition, but.” He shakes his head. His eyes refuse to look up from his oh-so-interesting-all-of-the-sudden fingers.

“Oh!” Mary says, swallowing a sip of wine. “Louis goes to Berklee!”

“I do, yeah,” He looks at his mum, then back at Harry, who’s finally looking back up- at Louis. “It takes a while, but you should know soon. How longs it been?”

“I auditioned in April,” Harry shrugs. He says it as if he already knows the result. As if he knows he wasn’t selected or even considered. 

“Oh, you’ll know any day now, then.” Louis cuts through Harry’s vacant expression.

Eliza stops strumming. “You should go with him.”

“Go with… Go where?” Harry questions.

Louis keeps staring at Harry with wide eyes. This is so much, so much information. He’s trying to take it all in, but it’s a lot to deal with when Harry looks like 

. Like a wall has been broken, and he’s vulnerable, and he’s not radiating confidence and arrogance. He’s scared, he looks utterly terrified. “To your second audition,” Louis finishes with a smile.

Harry shakes his head again. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, picking up his beer and taking a swig. “I have connections, Harry. Don’t pass up on such an opportunity.”

The topic falls into the fire along with a few napkins. They finish the last of their drinks and stumble to bed. It’s nice, because something has changed. Harry keeps looking Louis in the eyes with something- respect? Who knows. The awkwardness burns away too, being replaced with that new something that has yet to be determined.

It’s dangerous: being drunk with Harry. Louis loses that little part of him that wants to punch a fist sized hole in his face. Especially tonight. Tonight, he feels like Harry could actually be a person other than someone that could potentially break his sister’s heart. They sit in the dark, together, on the bed, talking about music and the way it makes them feel.

Harry asks Louis question about Berklee; what the campus is like, how the professors are, what foods not to eat at the dining hall, etc. Louis can’t help but feel endeared when Harry’s pupils dilate at the mention of ‘performance attendance’ (going to live music performances as part of your schooling). 

And there they are again- fingers brushing together every once and a while as they lie facing each other.

“Do you think I’ll get in?” Harry asks softly, his eyes fixated on the fingers that threaten to grace the tips of Louis’. 

“I’ve only heard you sing once,” Louis replies just as soft, “Just that tad bit a few nights ago.”

Harry makes to pull his fingers away, looking on the verge of tears almost, when Louis grabs his hand. 

“You’ll get in for sure.” Louis answers. 

And Harry’s face fucking lights up. He smiles, dimple and all, tightening his grip in Louis’ hand. 

They don’t let go for the rest of the night. 

**

Harry gets a second audition.

Not only that, but Louis gets the internship.

Which is perfect, since Louis is expected back at the school within the same week as Harry’s audition. However…

They’re both sober now. 

And things have reverted back to hostile.

It’s while they’re sitting at the airport, bags beside their legs as they recline in the uncomfortable black chairs, that Louis gets a moment alone with Eliza.

“You know I’m just protective,” Louis apologizes, “I’ll back off.”

She relaxes into the seat, laying her head down on Louis’ shoulder. “I’m a big girl, you know.”

“I know, I know.” 

“And Harry’s not- He’s a good guy,” She sighs. Both of their eyes catch onto Harry from across the room. He’s standing at a vending machine, trying eagerly to stuff a crumpled up paper into the slot. It’s not gonna go through, there’s no way, but he continues trying his brows furrowed and determined. “I doubt he’s even capable of breaking my heart.”

Louis smiles at that. It takes a lot of energy for him to shove that protective bit of his soul down, but he does so as best he can. 

Considering the fact that he has to spend the next week alone with the boy, the best he can do is try and act civil. Plus, he can’t help but deny that Harry’s taken a seat in his heart somehow. The vile comments slide off of his shoulders a little easier now that he’s seen a glimpse of the soft side of Harry. 

Harry approaches them with empty hands. 

“Machine’s broken.” 

Eliza giggles to herself, pulling Harry by the arm and yanking him into her lap. They nuzzle their noses together. 

Louis gulps, restrains from slapping them with a disgusted comment. Harry’s eyes peek past Eliza’s face to see if he’s gotten a reaction from Louis, but his taunting smirk fades when he realizes that Louis isn’t even looking at them anymore.

There’s a moment when Harry tests the waters, suspicion riddling his face as he kisses Eliza’s entire face with eyes set on Louis. He gives up after a while, retracting into his phone and going silent until they board the plane.

**

Louis’ flat is more like a closet with a bathroom. The living room is more or less a bedroom, a giant queen sized bed taking up the majority of the space since it wouldn’t fit into the actual bedroom. 

When they walk inside, Harry makes a comment on the dirty dishes in the sink. Louis shrugs it off, throwing his bag to the side and crashing onto the mattress.

“Er,” Harry clears his throat, “Where do I- Uh, where am I sleeping?”

Louis turns his head to face Harry, who is standing in the kitchen awkwardly with his arms at his sides. “Don’t get all shy now, Curly. There’s a sofa in the bedroom, you can relax now.”

A nervous chuckle escapes Harry before he drags his belongings into the neighboring room. 

It’s… weird. 

Harry is definitely acting odd, his demeanor shifting from arrogantly cocky to skittish and timid. Louis accepts this as a victory, his smile digging into his cheeks. But when Harry stays in the room and doesn’t come out, he feels bad. He feels really bad, actually. 

Because Harry is probably scared and nervous about his audition. Harry’s in a completely foreign environment and dealing with probably the biggest transition of his life right now. Louis curses himself for feeling anything whatsoever, and for approaching the bedroom to ask Harry if he wants to get dinner. 

Dinner turns into a tour of the campus. They walk along the sidewalk with their hands dug deep into their jackets. Harry remains rather quiet, though. Why does Louis want to change that?

They make their way through the square, leaves swaying from the trees and down towards their feet. The air is warm, but crisp at the same time as fall creeps up on them. There’s a gigantic fountain in the middle of the trees, spewing crystal clear water down into a deep pool with pennies scattered on the bottom. There’s a few statues of instruments scattered along the edges of the fountain, trombones and trumpets spewing water as if it were music. 

Harry stops walking at the fountain. He peeks over the concrete ledge, looking into the water at the coins. Louis watches as his eyes move from statue to statue, mesmerized by the view. 

He walks up to Harry, their shoulders brushing lightly. Harry looks at him as if caught in the middle of a dream. Louis digs in his pocket and pulls out a penny.

They don’t say anything, they don’t have to. Harry just smiles as he looks at the penny, picks it up, and squints his eyes as if he’s setting a wish into the coin. He throws it and watches it land on a statue of a woman singing.

“That’s gotta be a sign,” Louis whispers. 

Harry doesn’t reply. He just watches the water flow from the concrete mouth, his eyes wide and hypnotized. 

“C’mon,” Louis grabs him by the arm. “I wanna show you something.”

They silently walk away from the square and into a massive building with about twenty glass doors to the front. It’s quiet when they walk inside, the only sound coming from a piano being played from a practice room. When Louis glances at Harry, he feels his stomach drop, which is… new.

Because Harry looks like a deer, eyes gaping at the marble floors and majestic red walls. His mouth is hanging open, head tilted back, marveling at all of it. He captures such a beautiful image of passion and appreciation. To Louis, this is all just normal. He’s used to the gold wainscoting, the marble floors and velvet seating chairs. But to Harry, this is a world he’s not yet dipped his toes into, and Louis gets to watch that happen.

He tugs on the amazed boy’s arm, pulling him through a set of double doors that lead into the auditorium. There’s nobody in there, so it’s just the two of them. Their footsteps echo throughout the massive hall. 

Before Harry turns his face away, Louis catches the glint in his watery eyes. Harry is bewildered, absolutely in awe of the room that he’s just walked into. Louis gives him a little shove, pushing him towards the steps that lead to the gigantic stage. 

“Can I?” Harry says so quietly that it doesn’t get the chance to be echoed through the air. Louis nods, and Harry tiptoes up the stairs and to center stage.

Louis plops down in the front row. “And what will you be singing today?” He asks, acting as if he has a clipboard in his hands.

“I’m not- Not in front of- No.” Harry shakes his head. He takes the room in through his eyes, mouth hanging open slightly. 

Louis knows firsthand how terrifying this moment is. He knows the rush of adrenaline coupled with anxiety that establishes itself in your veins when you’re there, on that stage. He feels it burst from Harry and onto himself. Feels the terror mixed with amazement. It’s a sweeter feeling than it is bitter.

“Just- Give it a go, yeah?” Louis leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “If you can do this for me you can do this for the suits with ease.”

At that, Harry looks down to Louis. His shoulders rise and fall, eyes pressing shut. “Don’t look at me.”

Dramatically, Louis physically turns around in his seat. He opens his mouth to tease Harry lightly, but he’s cut off by- 

By Harry, openly and nakedly letting something velvety and syrupy flow from his mouth and all over the audience. The audience that isn’t there, but should be. Because it’s low, low and soaring like a warm breeze that grabs the hairs on the back of your neck and whips them up. 

The song is one that Louis knows pretty well. He couldn’t write it down onto a piece of sheet music, but he could tell you the name and composer. 

It’s a song called “Northern Lights,” by the composer Eriks Esenvalds. It’s usually sung amongst a choir with sopranos, altos, tenors, basses. He’s singing the solo that eases into the beginning of the piece, and Louis forgets that it even has other singers. Because Harry doesn’t need the lot of voices to back him up, doesn’t need the array of descants and melodies that dance over his voice like fireflies. 

Before Harry finishes the line, Louis turns his head over his shoulders. 

His stomach dips again, flipping over itself. 

Because Harry is so, so beautiful. So wonderfully captured and ravished by his own voice as it tells the story through another language, another universe even. He’s not here. Harry’s not in this world, not while he’s singing. 

When he finishes, his voice disappears into the air like mist. He opens his eyes to meet Louis’. 

“Harry…” Louis whispers. He’s not sure that Harry even hears it. 

“I-I told you not to watch.” Harry stammers. Their eyes are still connected. There is no air, not anymore.

“I just-” Louis turns around so that he’s facing forward again. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t not.”

Harry clears his throat and scurries down the steps. His cheeks are flushed. Louis doesn’t even notice that he’s standing, and walking to meet Harry at the base of the steps.

He catches Harry by the shoulders. Harry’s head snaps up, his nose almost knocking into Louis’.

“Listen to me when I say this,” Louis demands, his voice a little harsher than he intended for it to be. Harry blinks widely at him as if he’s coming back into reality. “Are you listening?”

Harry nods.

Lowering his voice, Louis squeezes his hands on the push of Harry’s arms. “That was incredible, Harry. And you have something that not a lot of people get the pleasure of having. Of hearing, even.” He lets go, regains his composure, sniffling to establish some sort of masculinity. 

And Harry stares at him importantly. His eyes are weak, begging for some sort of significance in Louis’ facial structure. “You’re not messing with me?”

It’s so innocent and pliable coming from Harry’s soft lips. Louis smiles genuinely, softly, and nods. Harry copies Louis’ expression, capturing a grin that digs into his cheeks earnestly. 

There are very few real moments in the world. Very few minutes in time that go still as if a photograph has been taken. Louis feels it, feels the snapshot occur in Harry’s sight at the same time as Louis’. The gears have shifted, time has stopped. 

Something has changed. 

**

When Louis comes back from a meeting the next day, Harry’s sitting on the bed in the living room wearing nothing but a black pair of boxers. He feels a tickle deep in his abdomen when he takes in the sight: Harry, nearly naked, eating a bowl of Cheerios amongst dirty tee shirts and loose pairs of socks. 

He slams the door shut, making Harry aware of his presence. He spills the cereal all over the disorganized sheets. “Oi! You made me spill!”

“You’re cleaning that up,” Louis scoffs as he sets his laptop bag down on the counter. “Also, if you wouldn’t mind 

running around naked, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Harry begins soaking up the spilled milk with one of the dirty shirts, “Your cock doesn’t seem to mind it.”

When Louis looks down, he notices how obvious the lump in his trousers is. It’s rather unfortunate that he’d chosen his tightest pair of jeans today. Immediately, he hides behind the counter. His brain struggles to find a comeback. He’s fuming off of embarrassed rage as he grabs the nearest dish towel and throws it Harry’s way, hitting him square in the face.

“What?” Harry yells. “Not my fault you’re in love with me, or something.”

Snap. Louis snaps. Absolutely snaps. His cheeks flush red with boiling blood, the heart in his chest thumping to an ungodly rhythm. He charges around the counter towards Harry, putting his hands on his shoulders and shoving him back onto the bed. “That’s enough, do you hear me?”

“Careful now,” a devilish smirk pouts at Harry’s lips, “You’re not gonna last at this rate.”

Louis steps back. “How old are you? Really, how old are you? Grow up, will ya?”

Standing up on his knees, Harry meets Louis at eye level. “Go ahead. Have your way with me, Tomlinson.”

“I swear to god,” Louis spits, “I swear to god- If you don’t cut this immature, childish, offensive shit I will blind you. I don’t care who you are, whatever you are to Eliza-”

“Aww,” Harry brings his hand up to Louis’ fringe, pulling on a loose strand while pouting his lips, “Look at you, all hot and bothered.”

So, Louis punches him. 

His fist meets Harry at eye level, leaving a blotchy red spot in its tracks. Harry, stunned, brings a cautious hand up to touch the mark. His mouth hangs open as he stares at Louis with watering eyes. 

Louis can’t read Harry’s reaction, as he can barely gather his own. He watches in terror as 

Harry’s eyes begin flooding, threatening to overflow. His brows furrow painfully as his body starts shaking, adrenaline and fear attacking his chest into an earthquake. “What the fuck?” He curses. His words are poisonous as they slip off of his tongue. 

“I-I’m sorry, you just- you touched me, and-”

“My auditions tomorrow you ass!” Harry stands up on the mattress, stumbling over the duvet and bundles of laundry. His hand reaches up to grasp a handful of Louis’ hair, yanking his body down onto the bed with great force. Shaking and terrified, he straddles onto Louis’ lap and starts hitting, hitting hard and angrily at Louis’ chest and shoulders. Between punches he swears breathily. 

Louis can’t push him off. So he squints his eyes and accepts each hit at face value. It hurts- a lot, but he can’t get over the tears streaming down Harry’s face. He’s full on crying now, curses slurring into one almighty “fuck you” eventually. 

Harry eventually removes himself tiredly. He stands to his feet and wipes his face with his arm, looking anywhere but at Louis. 

“Are you-” Louis catches his breath, “Are you okay?” 

“Don’t look at me,” Harry demands.

It’s then that Louis realizes he’s staring and can’t really stop. So, he asks again. “Are you alright?”

Harry sniffles. His head hangs low and for a beat, Louis catches the boy’s face scrunch up, expecting a sob. It doesn’t happen. Harry’s face adjusts itself when he looks up again, meeting Louis’ gaze with watery vision. He bites at his lip as he turns to walk into the bedroom.

Louis follows close behind him, only to have the door slammed in his face.

**

It’s about noon when Louis walks into the performing hall. 

He’d avoided any contact with Harry since they’d fought. He couldn’t face him, really. It’s not that he didn’t want to, it’s more that he couldn’t handle looking at Harry’s bruised face knowing that it was his own doing. He’d only caught a short glimpse of the black eye as it formed; purple and raw.

But Harry’s audition is supposed to happen any minute. And Louis can’t help but yearn to hear him sing again. 

He tiptoes passed a few of his classmates, sharing a friendly smile and wave. He maneuvers himself backstage. Pushing through a few black curtains, he stands where performers wait to go onto the large wooden stage. It’s intimidating, really. You can see about half of the audience from there, catch their watching eyes and pray that they enjoy whatever you put out there for them.

His eyes latch onto Harry immediately. He’s standing centerstage with nervous hands. His suit is slightly wrinkled, which Louis finds himself chuckling at. He is 

going to make a comment about that later.

All of that dissipates into thin air when Harry starts. He’s singing the same line as before, but there’s a few nerves splashed into the thick melody this time. A light tremor tickles Harry’s vocal cords. It’s beautiful, nonetheless.

Only the side of Harry’s frame is visible. He can’t see the black eye, nor can he see the way Harry disappears into the music. Louis knows, though. Knows that Harry’s eyes are squeezed tightly. He knows that the adjudicators are watching expectantly. He knows that Harry is nervous. He knows that those in the audience are just as hypnotized as he is. 

Louis’ still caught in a heavenly haze when Harry finishes. He catches a few kind words from the professors that are genuinely meant for Harry. 

Harry turns, head bowed as he heads Louis’ way. He finally looks up once he’s behind the curtain, looks right at Louis.

Louis opens his mouth, loaded with congratulations and warm encouragement, but Harry strides right passed him. 

“Harry,” Louis calls after him, following. “Harry!”

“Please don’t follow me,” Harry begs.

“Can you-” Louis catches him by the arm. “Look at me.”

“What?” Harry barks, turning around to fully face Louis. “I’m not in the mood to fight with you, what could you possibly want?” 

The bruise is small, haphazardly covered up with makeup. It’s there, though. Louis winces at the sight of it. 

“I just-” Louis sighs, “You did really good.”

“Thanks,” Harry says sharply as he turns to walk away again. 

Louis stops him, yanks his arm to turn him around. “Harry.”

“What!” Harry yells. A couple of heads turn to face them. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I’m really, genuinely sorry.”

“Yeah,” Harry shuts his eyes. “Yeah I’m sorry too. I’m-” He opens his eyes again. They dig into Louis’ face. “I’m flying out tonight.”

Louis’ shoulders fall. He feels his heart twist halfway in his chest. It’s sharp, hits him square in the same spots Harry did the day before. He struggles to find meaning in Harry’s face. He’s looking, searching, begging to read Harry’s thoughts, but he comes up short. “Why?”

Before Harry can answer, they’re approached by a man in a cream colored blazer and slacks. He’s an older man, hair silvery grey and hands wrinkled from time. He pats Harry on the shoulders, handing him a manilla envelope. 

“Son,” the man starts, grabbing Harry’s attention, “I have to say, I was very pleased with your audition.” He offers a hand. “I’m Leonard Jefferson, head of vocal performance. I wanted to personally offer you admission, son.”

Harry absolutely beams. The purple under his bruise crinkles along with his eyes as he smiles brightly, shaking the man’s hand in return as well as accepting the envelope. “I’m-I’m Harry! It’s so nice to meet you, I’m honored, really.”

“As am I,” Leonard replies, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard a voice like yours, son. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Really proud,” Louis adds.

Both men turn to look at Louis, then back to each other.

“I’ve got to go back in- listen to some more auditions, but. I’m so glad to meet you, Harry. Keep it up.” Leonard finishes before disappearing into the big doors that lead to the stage.

“I can’t-” Harry says, still smiling widely, “I can’t believe that just-”

“Believe it, Harry. You really are…” Louis clears his throat to regain composure, attempting to avoid sounding too soft and fond as he breathes in Harry’s excitement. But how can he? How can he not look at Harry with pride and respect after hearing him sing like 

? He lets it slip. Just this once. “You’re amazing, Harry.”

For the first time, Harry pulls Louis into an embrace. He hugs him tightly and clutches onto the back of Louis’ shirt. “Thank you,” He whispers into Louis’ shoulder. The hold gets a little tighter before they let go, Harry holding onto Louis’ shoulders when he pulls away. 

Their eyes meet, flickering between one another timidly. 

Unknowingly, Louis reaches up to brush Harry’s bruise with his thumb. It slides against the tender skin lightly. He watches it, wishing it would go away as if it never happened. “Why are you flying out tonight?”

Harry distances himself, letting Louis’ hand fall off of his face. “I think it’s...It’s just best that I do, I think.”

There’s no use in arguing. Louis doesn’t want to argue with Harry anymore. His heart simply can’t do it, even if he wanted it to. So he breathes in a sigh and nods. “Gotta celebrate first though, hmm?”

At that, Harry grins and nods back. 

The air is weightless as they make their way around town, stopping at a few bars for congratulatory drinks. They drink until their blood is warm enough to not need their suit jackets as they stroll down the sidewalk as they sun sets in the pink and lilac sky. They briefly discuss music and various tidbits about the school, joking about being classmates and throwing around the idea of being flatmates. They agree that no, that could possibly be the most toxic environment to ever exist. 

They silently sit on a bench as they wait for Harry’s Uber to arrive that will take him to the airport. They haven’t really discussed the whole of it, but they both know. Won’t admit it, but they do know why Harry has to leave. 

Maybe they won’t ever bring it up again. Maybe they’ll just ignore that gut feeling that causes the both of them to explode with emotion every time the other is in the room. Regardless, it’s there. Neither of them really understand it, nor do either of them try to understand it. 

Louis lets his hand rest on Harry’s thigh. Gentle fingers caress the fabric of his slacks, brushing back and forth the side seams. 

“I’m genuinely proud of you, you know.” Louis swallows. “A very brother-like pride.”

Harry chuckles to himself. “Brother-like.”

The smile hides itself behind Louis’ cheeks. Tired, he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and watches the cars rush by. Their lights get brighter as the sun goes down, he notes. 

“Thank you,” Harry says so quietly that it gets lost in the whir of the cars. He turns his head towards Louis’, pecking a small kiss on the soft hair. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“For what?” Louis lifts his head. “You did this for yourself.”

Harry shakes his head, looking down at his lap.

“No!” Louis yelps. “No, I want you to say it. Say ‘I’m proud of myself’. Say it. Say iiiit.”

“Noooo,” Harry retorts. Louis playfully shoves his shoulder. “No, I won’t!”

He shoves Louis back, causing them to fall over on the bench. Harry hovers over Louis with his hands propping him up on either side of Louis’ head. His lips curl warmly, smiling softly down onto Louis as he leans in a little more. 

Their lips brush timidly. Louis gives in a little, tilting his head and angling his head so that their lips could press against each other. Harry does the same. 

A car honks in front of them, startling their bodies back into their upright positions. Their eyes snap to the car as if they’ve been caught, but relax when they realize it’s Harry’s Uber. 

Louis stares forward unblinkingly. He can see out of his peripheral vision that Harry’s turned to look at him, leaning in and pecking a kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m proud of myself.”

**

Louis loves his alone time. He adores having hours to himself, strumming his guitar and writing music for no reason other than for pure pleasure. He binge watches dumb Netflix comedies and eats whatever he gets delivered. He loves it. 

But this time around, it’s different.

His flat is too quiet, too empty even though it’s flooded with dirty dishes and unwashed clothes. He forces himself to keep the TV on just for the noise. There’s one necessant thought in his mind that is louder than the others that he just can’t seem to wash out with white noise. 

Harry. Harry is on his mind. The fact that Harry is even 

is on his mind. He even went out of his way to speak with some of the adjudicators about Harry’s audition just so he had an opportunity to talk, hear, and fond about Harry. It’s gotten very messy in his head. It’s a mess of curls and a thick baritone voice that cover the innards of his skull.

There’s guilt intertwined with the feeling of being completely and utterly obsessed with the boy. He thinks about Eliza. Eliza is with Harry, and Eliza is Louis’ whole world. He’d spent so much time protecting Eliza from Harry that he hadn’t even stopped to recognize that he himself could do damage to his sister. 

He’s decided that she’ll never know, and neither will Harry. The whole ordeal will get swept under the rug as if it doesn’t exist and therefore; it won’t. Nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing to think about before he falls asleep. Nobody. 

As he’s coming home late after a briefing about his new internship, his phone vibrates harshly in his pocket.

“What the fuck did you do?” Eliza barks through the speaker.

Fuck.

“Excuse me?” Louis’ voice shakes as he unlocks the door to his flat and steps in. “What?”

“Umm, I don’t know, Louis.” She spits condescendingly. “I spoke with Harry, does that name ring any bells?”

And, okay. Louis is frantically trying to take his shoes off while sifting through his options here. He could:

  1. Confess to everything. Admit to both Eliza and himself that he’s unforgivingly in love with Harry Styles, or
  2. Play dumb, or
  3. Hang up and turn his phone off.

He goes with option 2.

“What?”

“What did you say to him, Louis.” She says sternly.

“I don’t-”

“We had a good thing going, Louis. Everything was fine, I was fine. He broke things off with me.”

Louis feels his stomach sink to the floor. “I’m sorry, Eliza, I didn’t mean- Fuck, I am so sorry.”

She must sense the genuine solace in his voice. She heaves a heavy sigh through the phone before continuing, her voice low and easy.

“No, it’s okay. It’s fine, like, I’m fine.” She breathes in and out slowly. “We were trying to get a rise out of you and it went too far, I think. That’s my bad. You didn’t know, that’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have let it get that far, to be honest,” Louis soothes. He shuts his eyes as he prepares for all of it to seep out of him. Eliza cuts him off before he can even attempt to explain himself.

“You were trying to protect me. I get that. But you terrified him, Louis. He came back here and was all messed up, which is so weird of him. He was like, shaking and such. We’re not like…” She gulps. “Dating. We were just messing around. Mum wouldn’t get off of my back about not having a boyfriend, and since Harry was my current fuckbuddy, it just worked out that way. He’s a good little actor, that one.” She chuckles politely to herself before taking in a shaky breath. “Anyway, whatever you did to him worked. He told me he couldn’t do it anymore- mess around playfully anymore, and when I asked if it had anything to do with you, he got so nervous and quiet and odd. That along with his fucking 

told me everything I needed to know.”

A weight flies off of Louis’ chest and into the ceiling. He smiles a little to himself, feeling a little lighter. But then the walls cave in as he processes it all. 

“You brought your fuckboy to the lake house?” He explodes, his brotherly angst kicking back into a gear. Everything feels normal, everything is fine. 

“Congrats!” Eliza snaps back. “You successfully got rid of one of my boytoys. Bravo, Tomlinson, excellent work.”

Which… Okay. This is fine. Eliza thinks Louis is simply a protective older brother that throws a killer punch, cool. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s thinking about Harry again, even as Eliza talks about her new uni to him. It goes through one ear and out the other. He hears every few words, the rest being muffled by the idea of a certain someone.

“Just promise me one thing, please?” Eliza starts. “Don’t be mean to him when he’s there, at school with you. He’s actually a nice boy, despite all of the bullshit he put you through before. He’s a decent person, so. Try?”

He smiles sheepishly. “I’ll try.”

**

Fall quarter starts in about a week. 

New students begin to flood the campus with their parents. There’s a lot of crying, as well as a lot of instruments being played all over the campus. Every musician is savoring these last few moments of warm weather before the chill sets in, turning the square into a symphony of trumpets and violins as students come and go. 

Louis beams when he sets foot into the classroom that he’ll soon be student teaching in. It’s less of a lecture hall and more of an auditorium, complete with a stage and lights. Part of the gig includes running the orientation for the guitar courses. He excitedly preps the room for the incoming students. 

He’s arranging the guitar shaped cookies onto their tray when he hears the door to the classroom open and close. Before looking, he checks the time- still an hour away from when the orientation is supposed to start. Confused, he turns around.

Oh.

“Harry?”

And there he is, staring wide eyed back at Louis. His mouth is open slightly as he watches for a reaction on Louis’ face. He clings onto the strap of his bag that is hung over his shoulder nervously. “I-I thought this was-I’m sorry, I didn’t- I got-” He stutters aimlessly, body stiff as he stares. He shuts his eyes tightly and puffs out a heavy breath through his nose. “Please don’t yell at me.”

Louis freezes. Their eyes burn into each other. “I’m not gonna yell at you, Harry.” He laughs a little, trying to melt the ice cold air between them.

“I know you’ve probably heard from Eliza- I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody, and- I know you’re probably angry with me, but you don’t know the whole story, and-”

“Harry,” Louis drops his shoulders, “It’s okay. Really.” He sets down the cookie that’s been crumbling in his stiff hand, finally tearing his gaze away. “She told me everything, it’s okay.”

“Oh,” Harry relaxes. His fingers tap on the strap, clearing his throat. “I erm. I Think I’m lost.”

“I’ll say,” Louis chuckles, “What room are you looking for?”

Harry rummages through his bag to find a yellow sheet of paper. “It says AW 300.” He looks up. “How am I supposed to know what AW means. It’s a new student orientation, how am I supposed to know that?” He laughs a little, the quirk on his lips striking Louis with a warm familiarity. 

An irrepressible grin creeps onto Louis’ face as he walks over to Harry. He snatches the paper out of Harry’s hand and looks down at it. “They like to make you work for it, you see. Come on,” He opens the door, offering for Harry to walk in front of him, “I’ll take you there.”

They walk through a sea of students looking just as bewildered as Harry did when he first arrived on campus. It’s adorable, really. Each new face looking around at the looming old buildings in both fear and anticipation. Harry, however, is looking at Louis. 

The building is a short walk from where they were. When they arrive, Harry takes a quick look at the brick structure before looking right back at Louis. 

“Thank you,” He says warmly. “And… I’m sorry for, erm. Everything, I guess.” 

Louis looks down at his feet, kicking at a rock with his black and white converse. “Was kind of a dick move to, you know, audibly fuck my sister in the room beside mine, yeah.” He looks back up when Harry clears his throat. “Gotta hand it to you, though. You two really had me fooled.”

Harry’s eyes snap up, meeting Louis’. They’re sparkling from the glow of the orange sun, casting rays down and into his green eyes hypnotizingly. Louis gulps, his eyes dragging themselves down to Harry’s lips for just a second. 

“You didn’t hurt her,” He continues, “And that’s all I was really tyring to avoid, really. So, nothing to be sorry for, really.”

“I meant, like,” Harry looks towards the front doors of the building. “Shit,” he curses, “I have to- I gotta go, actually.” He looks back at Louis, lips quirking into a polite smile. “What are you doing later?”

Louis feels his heart race, picking up an extra beat in between the already stace pace. “I’ve gotta set up some stuff in the performance hall.”

He watches as Harry’s face falls in disappointment, eyes looking back down at the ground as if he’ll find something hopeful on the pavement.

“You can join me, if you’d like.”

And Louis absolutely adores the way Harry lights up in a split second. He’s looking back up at Louis, baby face grinning from ear to ear and eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis chuckles, slapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Now go. Doesn’t look good to be late on the first day.”

Harry nods. He sends a dorky, excited wave Louis’ direction as he enters the building. Louis’ chest fills up with endearment. He watches Harry walk the wrong direction, turn around, and stumble into another lost student, which only makes Louis’ cheeks flush even more. 

He wonders how he even got to this point. Where did things change so drastically? Since when is Harry a bumbling idiot that Louis is cluelessly enamored by? There was no time to process it. It just sort of happened, and the door back to hating Harry is closed and locked by a deadbolt. 

The time in between saying goodbye to Harry and meeting him at the performance hall goes by slowly. Louis watches the time on his phone intensely. He swears that seconds have turned into minutes, minutes into hours. He’s already fully prepared the auditorium for the upcoming choir rehearsal. There wasn’t much to do, really, but Louis could not simply pass up the opportunity to see Harry’s face glow in the stage lights. 

He’d even gone out of his way to snag some crisps from the vending machine. He got a packet of potato chips for Harry, a packet of pretzels for himself. He debated on buying a bottle of wine, but decided against it. It soon came clear to him that he was preparing himself for something much more romantic than this thing really was. 

Yes, Louis is hopelessly gone for Harry. But having this time to analyze what was happening put things into perspective:

Harry, as mesmerizing as he is, is Eliza’s ex. Even if it was just a fling, no strings attached, there were still lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Besides, he’d been riding on the whim that Harry had feelings for him, too. And Louis doesn’t know that for sure. In fact, he’s starting to seriously doubt that there is anything there at all. 

So he swallows it all. He takes one big gulp and shoves it down, all of it. Besides, this is a scary time for Harry. Starting at uni is terrifying enough, let alone starting at a prestigious music school like Berklee. He needs a guiding hand, so Louis decides to offer him one.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice echoes quietly from one of the entrances into the auditorium. 

Louis turns, spotting Harry in an instant. He’s skipping down the ramp running alongside the seats. As expected, he’s looking around the room in amazement, teeth showing through his smile. But no, no. Louis’ not gonna be endeared by that, no.

When Harry’s eyes fall onto Louis, he smiles gently. “There you are.”

And there goes Louis’ breath. It’s lost itself into the atmosphere of the auditorium, mixing in with the oxygen until it’s just...gone. Because Harry looks like Fall itself; hair whipped by the wind into a perfect mess of curly brown, cheeks pink from the unexpected cold air of the outside, and tied together with a light orange scarf tied around his neck that reminds Louis of the upcoming cold season. He skips eagerly towards Louis, body being thrown by the declining ramp. 

It takes a heavy breath for Louis to steady himself when Harry meets him at the front of the stage. “Here I am,” he jokes as casually as he can. 

“I, uh,” Harry’s gaze meets the floor. “I got you something.”

“Did you?” Louis asks, studying the way Harry stands with his hands behind his back. Before he asks any further questions, he hops up onto the stage, sitting so that his legs dangle off of the edge. He pats the spot beside him, letting Harry hop up as well. 

Harry struggles a bit, trying to hide the gift behind his back as he plops down next to Louis. “I wanted to- here.” He pulls a small box from behind his back, offering it towards Louis. 

“Are you proposing?” Louis taunts, taking the box. He hears a puff of exasperated air come from Harry, and he can feel the eye roll, even if he isn’t directly looking, he knows it’s happening. He lifts the lid off of it, revealing a small guitar pick with something scribbled in black sharpie. 

“It’s signed,” Harry points at the writing, “Hard to read, but. It’s Stevie Nicks.”

Louis looks up from the pick, directly into Harry’s eyes. His mouth is open, but no sound comes out. He just stares, feeling his heartbeat thump directly against his ribs. A bubble of euphoria rises from his sternum to his tongue. The fact that Harry got him anything at all makes the world stop spinning. It could have been a nickel off of the street for all he cares, Harry went out of his way to give Louis something. The fact that it’s actually signed by one of Louis’ favorite artists is just a plus. 

“I wanted,” Harry clears his throat, “I wanted to thank you. Just for everything you’ve done for me, like. Showing me around, letting me stay with you for my audition, making me sing for you and whatnot. It helped, a lot, and I just...” He clears his throat again, a smile tenderly gracing his rose red lips, “Thank you.”

“Harry…” Louis tilts his head, completely and utterly endeared passed the point of return. There are tears welling in his eyes, but he musters up enough strength to blink them away before Harry can see them form. “You didn’t have to get me anything, really.”

Harry looks down at his lap, playing with his now empty fingers. “I wanted to.” 

Louis wants him to look up. Wants Harry to hear every word that’s passing through his brain, because it’s too much for him to put into literal words. Before he can ask for his attention, Harry’s voice pulls at Louis’.

“I don’t have a lot of people, you know. Like, I don’t really have those permanent, unconditional people in my life. Family. You know? Like, my parents, they’re not… Involved, really. At all, actually, and… I don’t know how I was supposed to do this by myself. I just knew I had to. I had to find a school, go to it, and do all of it on my own, and that… That was really scary, you know? But then I met Eliza, and she was just… so friendly. We bonded instantly. She was great, and then your mum was just… So warm and inviting. Felt like I could actually have some of that foundation I didn’t think I was ever going to have.” He finally, finally looks up. His eyes instantly find Louis’, because Louis was already there, waiting for them. “And then I met you.”

There aren’t words in Louis’ brain. I mean, there are, but they’re not ready to slip off of his tongue just yet. So he listens as Harry pours just a little bit of his heart out for Louis, and Louis only.

“You get it, you know? There’s this feeling, this underlying cause of everything, everything I do that’s not right. I do so many things and I don’t wonder why, because I know it’s because of all of that. All of the past, it’s all led up to those things… I’ve tried to explain it to people, but there’s no point. With you, it’s just… Understood. You understand. Without asking, you already know.” 

There are definitely tears in Harry’s eyes. The stage lights do very little to cover up the wet glaze over the green. There’s a small sniffle followed by wiping his nose on his sleeve, but Harry hasn’t dared to break the connection between their sight. 

A light laugh escapes Harry. “I’m sorry to be all sappy. But I’m not, though.” He shrugs his shoulders, wiping his nose on his sleeve again. “I know I don’t have to be. You know?”

“Yeah,” Louis sighs. “Yeah I do.”

“Good,” Harry copies Louis’ sigh, his shoulders rising and falling. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. Harry’s spilled every ounce of himself out onto the stage, and Louis swears to mop it up as best he can. Harry needs family more than anything, and that’s enough for Louis to dig a hole to bury his feelings in. It’s enough for him to forget about all of that. 

“Thank you,” Louis finally says, looking down at the guitar pick. His thumb lightly brushes over the messy signature. “For the pick, and… For that. Thank you.”

Yes, there’s a part of him that is dying to kiss Harry right there. A part of him wants to pin him down onto the wood and plaster his lips all over Harry’s chin, neck, and arms. Instead, he exhales a final breath of relief and drops his head onto Harry’s shoulder. He feels a warm press of lips to the top of his head and immediately shutters at the contact. His eyes press shut to suppress the urge to look up, meet Harry’s lips, and put an end to the night. But he doesn’t. He can’t. Not when he knows how easy it would be for Harry to fall into pretending to feel something he doesn’t.

Because Louis does understand. He understands how easily you can pretend to be someone that you’re not in hopes of being what someone else wants or needs. If Louis wanted Harry to love him, Harry would gladly act like he does. That’s how the both of them think you acquire love. But it’s shallow. It’s giving and not receiving. There is not a world where Louis would ever want to do that to Harry, not when he knows the heartbreak that lies underneath the facade. 

They sit like that, silently pressed against each other until a small crowd shuffles into the auditorium. They automatically pull away from each other.

The two of them relocate themselves to the seats in the audience. A group of about thirty people find their spots on the stage, standing in a mixed formation of women and men. It’s a choir rehearsal that Louis knew was coming. He purposefully stayed a bit too long so that Harry could hear them. 

When they start singing, Harry’s neck nearly snaps as he turns to look at Louis. Expectantly, Louis smirks. 

“I know,” is all Louis says. They turn their heads back to focus on the choir, listening intently. 

For a moment, Louis watches Harry. A light shines from the boy’s face and onto the stage as he watches eagerly, mouth forming every word the choir sings because Harry already knows the songs. Of course he does. Harry’s got that natural thing that not a lot of people have. That passion that is so rare, so vibrant and generous. 

It’s ‘Northern Lights,’ by Eriks Esenvalds. The tune Harry so graciously performed for the adjudicators for his audition. But this time, it’s filled with the entirety of vocals that it is meant to have. Still, it doesn’t compare to the beauty of Harry singing it. There’s a gorgeous array of voices mixing and intertwining with each other. If Harry were a part of that, there would be no more air in the world. 

Okay, maybe Louis is getting a little too sappy about Harry’s voice. But it’s so real, the euphoria he felt when Harry sang it. He looks at Harry one more time, finding that Harry was already looking at him. 

Their eyes don’t have time to adjust. Before Louis can even blink, Harry’s lips have already collided into his. One of Harry’s hands cradles Louis’ cheek, fingertips pressing into the flesh. Their lips are slick, separating briefly before meeting up again. 

And there it is; every single thing Louis wanted to know, being poured into his mouth directly from Harry’s. Something clicks as their lips meet again and again. Something understood between kisses. Harry was right, there is unsaid awareness between them, and the evidence is right there, in Harry’s lips. 

It resembles the sound of the choir humming on the stage; a million individual sensations mixed together to form one spectacular thing. 

When their faces pull apart, they stay close. The air swirls around them along with the sounds of voices, warm and electric. They look up at the stage, giving their respect and attention to the rest of the song. 

As Louis fills his lungs with a much needed breath, he feels Harry’s fingers slide against his. They mix together on the armrest. Comfort tickles at the back of Louis’ neck, his shoulders relaxing into his seat as the voices diminish into silence.

**

Christmas comes around quicker than Louis expected it to. Fall came and went, Winter following in its footsteps without so much as a second passing between. 

His fist pounds at the front door. His fist stops in mid air when the door opens, Mary grinning brightly in front of him. She doesn’t waste any time sweeping Louis into a tight embrace. She kisses the sides of his cheeks about a million times, grabbing them with the palms of her hands as she holds back tears.

It’s nice, really. 

Her attention is swept away in an instant, eyes catching on the person behind him. There’s a moment of confusion that is automatically tossed aside when she registers who exactly that person is.

“Harry!” She yelps. Her feet scurry through the snow to meet him, arms wrapping him up in a heartbeat. “I didn’t know you’d be coming!”

“I can go,” Harry grunts, body being crushed in her hold. 

“No!” She barks. Her hands hold onto Harry’s shoulders as she looks at him sternly. “Don’t be silly. Come in boys, it’s freezing!”

They enter the house, shedding their jackets and shivering when they meet the warmth of the home. It looks the same as it did in the Summer, the only difference being the elaborate holiday decorations. 

Louis passes a studious glance at Harry to make sure he’s taking everything okay. His body relaxes at the genuine happiness covering Harry’s face. 

So yes, bringing Harry home for the holidays was a good idea. The only other scary thing on the docket is Eliza’s reaction, which.

She makes a direct beeline for Louis once she sees him, engulfing him in a firm hug. He holds his breath as he waits for her to discover Harry. 

When she does, she’s immediately wrapping him in a similar hold. 

Everything is okay. Great, actually. The house smells like apples, cinnamon, and evergreen. There is a warm glow of light from the numerous candles spread about the home. And there Harry is amongst it all, beaming from ear to ear as he chats with Eliza and Mary. He looks over at Louis while speaking with them, smile growing just a tad bit wider. 

“So I take it you two have settled whatever animosity you had for each other, huh?” Eliza gives Louis a shove with her elbow.

“Actually, uh…” Louis starts. He fiddles with his arm sleeve as he prepares to break the news. He takes in a deep breath, chest tight with anxiety. 

“We’re dating.” Harry finishes. Confidence explodes from his chest as he stares directly at Louis, dimple poking at his cheek.

There’s no hiding it, really. They’re both so, so happy. Louis hasn’t stopped smiling since they’d kissed in the auditorium. Harry’s confidence skyrocketed since he’d been placed into the best choir at the school. Even Louis had been excelling at his internship, having been promoted to the actual teacher of the guitar program instead of an assistant. 

Mary clasps her hands together and to her lips. Her eyes are wet, darting between Harry and Louis. When Louis’ eyes find Eliza, she’s smirking at him, eyes knowing and delighted. 

“No duh,” she finally says. “Harry told me a while ago.”

He slaps Harry on the back. “You told!”

Mary finally starts crying. 

“Mum,” Louis and Eliza say in unison, their eyes rolling simultaneously. Harry’s the one that approaches her first, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tight. 

And it’s just… So right. Harry’s meant to be here, meant to be a part of all of this. Without knowing, there was something missing this whole time. And there that thing is, comforting Mary naturally. 

“Thank god,” Eliza mouths to Louis. 

“I know,” Louis mouths back. 

Unexpectedly, he feels Eliza wrap her arms around him. They’re not the most touchy feely family, so it definitely throws his body and mind into shock for a beat. 

“I’m happy for you,” she whispers into his chest. 

They spend the holiday drinking, laughing, and playing music whenever there is free time. Louis finds particular joy in introducing Harry to the rest of the family at the Christmas gathering. Every time Harry shakes the hand of a distant relative, he beams with contentment and compassion. His face lights up like a Christmas tree, and Louis hopes that he knows that it’s more than just a friendly gesture.

He hopes that Harry knows that he’s a part of the family. That Harry 

family now. That even if Harry were to break his heart, he would still be expected at Easter and Christmas and birthdays and every event in the future. 

“There’s no getting out now,” Louis whispers to him after introducing him to grandma Lynn. 

Harry furrows his brow as he snatches the last piece of celery. “Hmm?”

Eliza comes up behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “You’re one of us now, Harry.”

An affectionate look covers Harry’s face, his cheeks pink from the hot wine and tender gesture. He snaps another bite of the celery before raising it into the air. “To the Tomlinsons!” He shouts loud enough that the rest of the family hears. The gathering of people, young and old, raise whatever food or drink they have at their leisure and echo him. 

Once Eliza leaves, Louis replaces her arm on Harry’s shoulder. 

“And to you, Harry.” He whispers. Somehow, everyone else hears.

“To Harry!” The sea of Tomlinsons shout. 

Louis presses a tender kiss to Harry’s blushing cheek. “Merry Christmas, love.”

THE END.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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